The Brookhaven Exchange Club Fair’s bingo games are one of thebiggest fundraisers for the club during the annual event, and thegames have only one master.

But there once were two.

For almost 40 years, Charles “Ploochie” Ratliff and Virginia,his wife of nearly 63 years, have been in charge of the games – heretrieving the bouncing, numbered spheres and she lighting up theirplacement on an overhead board for players to see.

But now Ploochie is alone – a master without his match.

On Thursday, Feb. 28, Virginia Ratliff, 83, set off behind thewheel of a car – for only one of a few times in five or six years,due to bouts with dementia – toward Jackson to see her husband inthe G. V. (Sonny) Montgomery VA Medical Center, where he wasstaying for problems with his gastrointestinal tract. She hasn’tbeen seen or heard from since.

“My wife gathered up two of my jackets, my electric razor, myslippers – she was gonna bring them to me,” Ratliff said. “But shenever did get there. All that’s missing now. That’s kind of mylife.”

March 2 would have been their 62nd anniversary, and Saturday,July 26, would have been their 38th consecutive year of ExchangeClub bingo. Now, for the first time in almost half his life,Ratliff is alone – at home and at the bingo machine.

The husband and wife team, who often dressed alike, took overthe club’s bingo duties in 1970, when the previous bingo operatordecided the game was too near to gambling and got spirituallynervous about casting lots.

The Ratliffs stepped in to run the show. Every year, the pairwould contact local businesses seeking prizes for donation, makethe rounds to gather the prizes and set up the game in the ExchangeClub Park’s pavilion.

Bingo was too popular and the people loved it too much to let itdie.

“We just loved to do it,” Ratliff recalled. “Winning gives somepeople a real thrill. We wanted to help ’em, and we did help ’em.Now we can’t help ’em.”

Now, without Virginia, Ploochie is running bingo on half power.He has friends and family members who help him execute the game,but the thrill is most definitely gone.

“She was my right hand,” Ratliff said of his missing wife. “Butwithout her, I don’t know what I’m gonna do. You can guess, whenyou’ve been together 62 years, and something happens like this…”

No one knows exactly what “this” is. Cops, deputies and troopersall over Mississippi and neighboring states have searched, and arestill on the lookout, for the 1999 Mercury Grand Marquis Virginiawas last seen driving. But all the efforts have been in vain thusfar.

No one knows if she’s alive or dead, just that she isn’t whereshe belongs – with Ploochie.

As a member of the First Baptist Church of Brookhaven – when hefeels well enough to attend – Ratliff still has hope in faith, butis losing faith in hope.

“I’m getting to where I don’t,” Ratliff said of optimism towardhis wife’s return. “It’s been about six months, and nothing – notone thing. And I’ve got a whole U.S. coverage; I don’t know howmany people check on it every day. I’ll see her again in Heaven, Ireckon … I hope.”

Friends, loved ones and those in the know about Virginia keep aconstant check on Ratliff when he dons the bright red top hat andcalls bingo numbers out over the microphone.

As he sits in an old lawn chair in front of the bingo machine,with his elbows resting on a pair of pillows that have beenelectric taped to the hard plastic arm rests to comfort his oldarms, he is greeted by big smiles full of white teeth and firmhandshakes every few moments.

And he tries to shoot the friendliness back to his visitors withvarious cute remarks and comments. But his mind is somewhere onInterstate 55 in the northbound lane, peering over into the kudzugullies or wandering around street corners somewhere inMississippi, looking for his wife.

“I just figure somebody kidnapped her or something; that she gotoff on the wrong road,” Ratliff said with a shaky voice. “I knowshe wouldn’t run away from me or nothing like that – she was comingto see me.”

Ratliff talks to God about the whole ordeal, probably asking Himto give her back. He prays for Virginia every night before he goesto bed and every morning when he wakes up.

It hasn’t done any good.

Ratliff last saw his wife while he lay in pain on a hospitalbed. He was kept at the hospital for one week, and Virginia hadrefused to be talked out of driving herself to Jackson to see himas his stay continued.

Ratliff said the procedure he was in the hospital for could havebeen done in 12 hours, but doctors’ attention was focused on otherpatients.

“They put me off – they said they had to take patients comingfrom out,” Ratliff said. “I thought, ‘What about me? I came fromout.'”

At first, Ratliff wasn’t concerned when Virginia didn’t show upon time at the hospital. She has a brother in the Canton area, hesaid, and he thought she had dropped in for a visit.

The coldness crept in on him when he discovered she had notvisited her brother.

And she had not returned home.

And she had not contacted anyone.

And she was gone.

Ratliff awakens in the middle of the night to an empty bed andbegins to cry, then he cries himself back to sleep.

“I just can’t help it,” he admitted. “You can realize we’ve beentogether 62 years. We wanted to stay together.”

While Ratliff is separated from his wife, he is not separatedfrom the bingo. He can barely get along, but the bingo can’t getalong without him.

With a heavy heart, he sits dutifully behind the machine withmicrophone in hand, raising money for the club that raises moneyfor children.

And he’s making a mint. On Saturday, Ratliff’s bingo sessionsgenerated $1,200 for the Exchange Club, most likely a record foropening night.

Part of Ratliff’s dedication comes from the desire to be alive.Barred from driving on account of his health, Ratliff said he getstired of “sitting around the house and doing nothing” while a homecare worker visits him twice weekly to take care of his washing andcleaning.

The other part of his dedication, however, is the same as it waswhen he ascended to the bingo chair with Virginia 40 years ago.

“I plan to do it as long as I can get around,” Ratliff said. “Ilove to do it so I can help the club out. I know I have to do itfor all the people.”

Brookhaven Exchange Club member Harold Gary said bingo is aninstrumental part of the fair, serving as “the nucleus” of thefestivities and drawing people through the fair.

And Ratliff is an instrumental part of bingo.

“Even with the tragic loss of Virginia, Ploochie, in his strongleadership way, has been able to keep bingo intact,” Gary said. “Sofar this year, we’ve had two of the biggest nights we’ve ever had.Bingo has come out stronger than ever.”

While the bingo is strong, Ratliff has weakened.

Clyde Allgood, Ratliff’s nephew and bingo assistant, saidRatliff is doing better now than in months past. But the strain oflosing Virginia shows in small things.

“He gets frustrated with little things like, ‘Ploochie, you’renot holding the mic up to your mouth close enough,'” Allgood said.”It’s kind of hard to say, but he was rather emotional for a while- he would call the house and say, ‘I just want my Gin back.’ I’m arealist, and I just told him, ‘Ploochie, it doesn’t lookgood.'”